Stakeout
by Durriken
Summary: Frozone and Mr. Incredible have a surprisingly candid chat about their wives.


A/N: I like writing chit-chats like these.

Chapter Nex: Stakeout

* * *

"Bob, can I be honest with you? And I mean totally, brutally honest."

"Well, I was gonna say 'always' but then you added that second part and now I'm not too sure."

A round of laughter filled the small car whose only occupants were two men, two very prolific Supers, to be exact.

"It's rooted in a hypothetical question, but the follow-up discussion might make you want to punch me. And to be straight shooter, you may have softened up over the years but a Mr. Incredible punch can still land a soul in the hospital."

"Hypothetical away, friend. You'd probably freeze me to the seat before I got a swing off anyway," Bob grunted, emphasizing his point by the sheer amount of trouble he was having attempting to lift his thermos of coffee for a sip. "I can barely move in this box you call a car…."

A tried chuckle left Lucius, and with good reason. It was well into the night and he was more than a little deprived of sleep from accompanying his long-time best friend Bob on these vigilante outings. Not that he minded. Just like Bob, he was itching for the days of old, where Supers could be Supers and actually made a difference, the days when the heroics of Supers were cheered on and celebrated instead of used as a target to pin collateral damage on.

The urge to do good was both a blessing and a curse nowadays. Both Bob and Lucius still burned with a passion to protect the innocent, even if the local law officials and government would rather they sit back and do nothing. The very idea of 'doing nothing' was laughably inconceivable. Those with the power had a responsibility to use it… and if that use came at the expense of being squashed into a rental box car every other night listening in on police chatter in hopes of catching something big, then so be it.

For justice.

That's what Lucius told himself at any rate, but to be completely honest, while his blood still boiled with the love of crime-stopping, the only pleasure he received from these late night stakeouts happened to be strolling across the street. Ignoring Bob, who was giving more effort toward fighting with his seatbelt than any adversary of his career, Lucius listlessly leaned against the steering wheel, watching intently as Mrs. Incredible, the fantastically figured Helen Parr, made her scheduled trash run. It was a bit chilly tonight so she was wrapped up in what looked like a bathrobe, not that it mattered, not that anything could possibly hide the wanton curves that woman idly showed off without a second thought. He watched her hips sway with every hurried step, saw the cute determination on her scrunched face to not waste a single second so she could get back inside where it was no doubt warm and toasty.

After seeing her like this so many times, Lucius had come to realize that maybe that's what made her so attractive beyond the obvious reasons. She was very modest about her looks, about her figure, so much so that she casually brushed off any compliments tossed her way, and they were tossed quite often. The term 'thick' was made solely for women like Helen but she fancied herself as barely passable; it was that kind of modesty that never failed to boost her attractiveness, because she meant it.

It's partially why Lucius married his wife, Honey. She was a modest woman as well, except she wasn't even half as lewd in the body department. Everything Helen wore looked almost lovingly painted on, for God's sake. Briefly, he wondered how Bob managed to be out here night after night with him—faithfully on the prowl for crime—when he had a bombshell of a woman like Helen who Lucius already knew he would be serving some hot pipe at least twice a day. He knew Bob wasn't dense, but maybe after so long he was bored with it? Bored with the sexy? Was that even something that was possible when it came to Helen Parr? Could one eve get bored of what stood on the precipice of perfection? Lucius didn't think so, which left him thinking Bob was just pouring his devotion into the wrong thing. Or, Lucius figured, maybe he was just horny for what he knew he would never have? That taboo pleasure….

She was on her way back now, stepping lively, sending that gloriously fat ass of her into a fit of jiggles, shuffling with those deliciously pale, thick thighs. Lucius didn't even bother to hide his staring either, there was no point; she couldn't see him from so far away, and after months of the same routine with Bob, he knew his friend was more preoccupied with the police scanner than where his eyes went, as alwa—

"You ever think about fucking my wife, Lu'?" Bob suddenly asked, blowing into his cold hands.

"Huh?"

Of course, Lucius had heard the question word for word the first time but it still took a few laps around his mind to fully comprehend it. What confused him was the fact that Bob had actually _asked_ , almost as if….

"Ha. Okay, you got me," Lucius admitted evenly, continuing to dutifully watch after his friend's wife until she was back in the house and out of sight. "How long have you known I've been checking her out?"

"Since day one, basically," replied Bob easily, glancing longingly at the temperature control. Of course, they couldn't risk turning on the car, it would give away their hiding spot and then Helen would more than likely decapitate the both of them. "It's not like you made it hard _not_ to notice since you tend to get really quiet and go "huh?" to everything I say."

"Dead to rights, I suppose."

More than ever, right then and there Lucius was glad that the friendship the two of them shared was deep enough to kick talks of this nature back and forth without exploding at one another. Not like Bob didn't know about Lucius and his habits anyway, and Lucius was certainly privy to some of Bob's more eccentric customs.

"So," Bob pushed, sounding genuinely curious and side-glancing his partner-in-heroics, "would you?"

"With the unholy strength of a thousand suns," Lucius answered unabashedly, and he started making rapid movements with his hands, miming some obscene gesture. "When I tell you she would be left dazed, Bob, she would be _daaaaaazed_ , dazed and drooling. I'm talking wheelchair bound for at least a week—her elasticity wouldn't do a damn bit of good once I got in there."

An ordinary married man probably would have taken umbrage to hearing his wife spoken about in such a fashion, but Bob only chuckled into his thermos. "That's something to ask her when I get back inside. 'Hey honey, ever date any guys of the chocolate persuasion?'" he voiced experimentally.

"It's funny how I can almost _hear_ the face she'd make," Lucius smirked, and he lifted a larger thermos. "How's the coffee? Need a top off?"

"I'm good and the coffee's even better. Honey made this?"

"Naturally. I like this battle of stupid her and I are playing right now."

"How d'ya mean?"

"We've been sneaking off on these little nighttime meetings for the past couple of months now, and I think Honey figured it out in, what, two weeks? Maybe three."

Bob nearly choked on his coffee.

"She… she knows? About us? About _this_?"

A look of dread flashed over Bob's face and he glanced at his house, but Lucius knew he was seeing nothing but an angry Helen, one who now knew what their 'guys night out' meetings were really about.

There was little Lucius could do but snort. "Okay, first, I'm gonna need you not to make this sound like we're cheating on our wives with each other. And second, yes, she knows, but she's not going to tell Helen because that's where the game of stupid comes into play. She knows that I know she knows and I know that she knows I know about her knowing, but neither of us are saying it outright. I know her, she's probably waiting for this whole thing to blow up in our faces naturally, just so she can jump out with the ol' 'told you so'. And I'm waiting for _us_ to catch the big fish so I hit _her_ with the ol' 'told you so'. See?"

"I see the two of you must have some pretty wild hate-sex, huh?"

That was blink worthy, so Lucius blinked, several times, silently contemplating the validity of that statement. Did they…? Did he and Honey do that?

"Holy shit, we do," he whispered, as though that were a stunning revelation, and he gripped Bob by his massive shoulder. "Bob, listen… I think me and Honey are a dysfunctional couple who argue all the time and settle our differences by seeing who can furiously fuck the other off the bed first."

"Hold on, buddy, I'll get on the horn and alert the law!"

There was no stifling Lucius' laughter as he rubbed at his watery eyes. "You saying 'I'll get on the horn' is just the funniest damn thing… like we slipped into some old-school cops'n'robbers show."

"Whenever the kids come to me with some stupid nonsense my first reply is usually 'I'll get on the horn' and if they don't walk away laughing then they go get Helen. Win-win for me," Bob said, shrugging. "Hey… speaking of Honey, she ever dated a guy like me before?"

"You mean a white guy? More than likely. She isn't— _wasn't—_ picky back in the day, to hear her tell it. If your dick worked and you weren't afraid to be left with a back scratched bloody then she was game. Why? Honey do something for you south of the border?" Lucius wondered, using his pinky finger to indicate a spot between Bob's legs.

When it took longer than a few moments for Bob to answer, when his brow crumpled with anxiety, Lucius found himself filled with a rush of curiosity he didn't know he could have for such a conversation topic.

"No way. Seriously?"

"I mean… I guess it's kind of her attitude," Bob finally uttered, attempting to scratch behind his head but coming up short when the car's incredibly low roof wouldn't let his arm make the journey up.

"Her… attitude?"

"Yeah, it's a _powerful_ one, like me. Explosive. Dynamic. Commanding. Don't get me wrong, though, Helen's a little firecracker when she wants to be, but it's rare—Honey seems like she would drop-kick you just for leaving shoes in the living room."

"Honey _has_ drop-kicked me just for leaving shoes in the living room. It was the day you came over and asked why I was rubbing my neck and I said I slept wrong."

"Oh. Bwahahahaha!"

Lucius rolled his eyes, tapping his thumb over the steering wheel to some mental rhythm while the police scanner continued to do its best to ensure them of another uneventful night.

"So you'd fuck Honey if you got the chance?" he asked.

"That or, given her attitude, she'd fuck me—one or the two."

"Too right. At first, I felt kinda emasculated the first time she took the dick without bothering to ask. Not that I cared, mind, but it was just… she was so aggressive about it," Lucius explained, unaware of how oddly silent the interior of the car had suddenly gotten. "One moment I'm just getting home from work, hard day and all, and the next thing I know she literally pounces me to the floor. Clothes were flying, my briefcase hit the air, I think she tore my belt that day—it was madness, Bob, I promise you. Her lips were everywhere all at once, I was hard without even realizing it until she started to suck the absolute _soul_ out of me. She had _me_ trying to get away it felt so good, but she wasn't showing no mercy… she took it all, man, she even swallowed, heartily at that. I'd never seen her look so feral, her hair was all over the place, there was this look in her eyes like even if I tried to run she would just hunt me down put in double the force. Saying she rode me into the sunset doesn't do it justice, more like she rode me to the moon and back. Twice. Raw. And the fucked up part, besides me, was I got the feeling she wasn't even seeing me as her husband in the moment; I just happened to be attached to what she _really_ wanted so that meant she had to take care of me, too. I was basically my dick's tagalong, that's how badly she took it, and I… I just… it's still something that keeps me up at night, hard as diamonds and more confused than a pig in a wig."

When Lucius came to the end of his unexpected tale, it took him a moment to realize that the car was nowhere near as frosty as it was before he started talking, and it took even less time to realize there was a great warmth emanating from Bob who sat stock-still, staring intently out the window and gripping his thermos with far more force than necessary.

"…Aha. Gave you a stiffy, didn't it? My story?" When the thermos cracked ever so slightly in Bob's grip, Lucius laughed. "Yeah, you caught a stiffy. Impressive, given the cold."

"That—must've—felt— _so_ —nice," Bob ground out, each word punctuated by a hard blink. "Lucky—you."

It took a couple tries but Lucius eventually managed to wrest the thermos from his friend before he could reduce it down to a metal ball, and replaced it with a reinforced thermos courtesy of Edna Mode, who had outfitted a lot of Supers in the past with nigh-indestructible, battle-sturdy little amenities like that.

"Eh, in the moment, sure, lucky me—but the dick rehabilitation afterwards was a bear. She literally fucked me raw, she got a whole month's worth out of me in one wild night," and Lucius had to forcibly stop himself there before he went on another tirade, now focusing in on the overabundant waves of jealously rolling off his unnaturally still friend. "Wait… Helen's never done that…?"

Very stringently, Bob shook his head.

Lucius gasped, placing a hand over his chest with a dramatic flair. "My stars and garters! _Never_ , you say? Oh, Bob, Bob, Bob, I'm… I'm so sorry, man." Consolingly, he patted Bob over the shoulder again, the action causing his larger friend to deflate with a heavy sigh.

"It's alright, I just settle for crying myself to sleep most nights," Bob joked, giving an exaggerated sniffle and pretending to wipe his eye. "Like I said, Helen has her moments but they don't go _that_ far… unfortunately… but when she _does_ want it, and I mean want it _bad_ , she has a very specific method of letting me know she wants to get beast-fucked."

There was no denying the immense intrigue that lit up Lucius' face. "Oh really?" By now, the act of listening to the police scanner had been so far forgotten that Lucius actively reached out and turned the volume down; not entirely off, but low enough to still catch something important without drowning them out. "Like how?"

The new steel thermos was holding up far better than the previous one, surviving several idle squeezes while Bob took to figuring out how best to explain.

"Sheeeee… well, it's no secret that Helen has a figure—" he started, but Lucius was quick to interrupt.

"She's thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, Bob, okay? We're both adults here, no need to sugarcoat it—your wife has the astounding ability to turn a straight woman gay, _without_ alcohol. How do I know? Even Honey told me she'd love to get your wife off."

There was a very tight, very contemplative silence that followed Lucius' candid admission, during which the two men vehemently stared forward, each lost in his own self-warming thoughts about how such a steamy scenario might play out.

"Didn't, um… didn't know Honey was, er, _that_ way," Bob sniffed.

"She has an interest with women that share her body shape, that healthy look, and Helen apparently fits the ticket in spades," Lucius added, inconspicuously squeezing his legs together. Knowing he wasn't the only one a little stiff in the pants, he didn't look in Bob's direction out of respect and hoped he would get the same level of privacy. "We'll circle back around to that—you were saying?"

The respect was indeed mutual as Bob kept his gaze anywhere but on Lucius, continuing on with, "Right, right, so… I'm not blind. People might think I'm all about wanting to fight crime but Helen hasn't put up with me all these years thanks to my sense of justice." There was no hiding that perverse grin twisting Bob's lips. "I absolutely _worship_ Helen's body. It's my temple, my altar, it's what I fight to get home to after work… and she knows this. And she fucking loves it. Normally, she's modest to a fault but she has no problem slipping into 'queen' mode."

Every word that fell out of Bobo's mouth struck Lucius in the ear with the force of a brick he was listening so intently, beginning to draw a mental picture that he didn't want disturbed by asking what 'queen' mode was.

Luckily, Bob seemed less reserved than before about divulging his wife's habits.

"Queen mode is what I call it when she actively accepts and _demands_ the fawning she gets for her figure. Oh, Lucius, man… you should see her when she gets going, she'll put on the most tightest pair of jeans she has and intentionally bump into me every chance she gets, her steps get this lithe little bounce, it's almost like back in our dating years," Bob said with a wistful sigh, rubbing his hands together. "She's a master tease, you don't even know. Little touches here, a stroke there, a flick of her tongue against my ear, it gets me so damn hard it's almost physically painful not to fuck her—but she won't let me, not so early, she loves to prolong the moment. When she grinds that fat ass against me, I swear I could shoot off in my pants and _still_ get her pregnant just from the proximity."

"Damn…."

"'Tell me how pretty I am, Bob,' she'd say," Bob continued animatedly, like Lucius had never spoken, "or 'I bet you'd love this juicy, fat ass on your face, wouldn't you?' and she'll call me a pervert—oh, but she _loves_ my tongue, she loves what I can do with it. So far, my record for making her cum just from eating her out is ten times in about an hour, maybe a few minutes over. Her pussy is as fat as the rest of her, and twice as delicious—I _never_ skip foreplay with her, she wouldn't let me anyway. Like, I can't imagine someone else besides me surviving having their skull crushed between her thighs when she goes off in my mouth," he said, subconsciously licking his lips like he might find some leftover zest from his wife. "She cums _hard_ , hips bucking, toes clenching, everything, it's always a flood… and watching her lie there in the throes of ecstasy, legs spread, that creamy mess between her thighs, gets me harder than steel… 'How did my pussy taste, Bob? Was it delicious? It must've been, it's like you were trying to suck the pink off my poor pussy, how many times did you plan on making me cum?'… She knows I love that kind of dirty talk, it brings out the beast in me and by the time we're done, the one who doesn't have a concussion has to wash the sheets."

That painful stiffness from before had reached adamantium levels where Lucius was concerned as his mind fruitlessly painted a picture that flowed with every single one of Bob's words. He tried to speak, found that his throat was quite dry, then swallowed and tried again. "So… she, uh… she likes the attention, then?"

"Oh God yes, but, you know, lady in the streets, freak in the sheets and whatnot. Actually, I love it, too. I love when I catch other dudes checking out my wife." Something that might have been a grunt echoed in Bob's throat, like it was beginning to bring the beast out of him just talking about it. "Whenever she bends over, she takes everyone's eye with her, and it gets me going like a freight train. Sometimes she does it on purpose." He suddenly chuckled. "She does it around you a lot."

The sound of tires screeching to a halt grinded through Lucius' head and he rounded on Bob so quickly that his neck cracked and he slapped a hand to it, wincing.

"G-get outta here, Bob," he said with a groan. "This isn't a competition to see whose wife can make the other the hardest…."

The entire car shook when Bob shifted in his seat. "I'm being absolutely serious, Lucius," he insisted with an excited kind of energy. "Look, there's nothing wrong with staring, you stare at Helen, I stare at Honey—"

"Say what? You do?"

"Oh come on, after everything I've said that should be obvious," Bob said with a dismissive wave of his large hand, "and anyway, Helen knows full well I have a kink for watching others watch her. Remember the last time you came over for dinner and Helen spilled her drink? Spent like five minutes bent over cleaning it up, didn't she?"

If there was nothing else that Lucius recalled about last week, he remembered _that_ moment very well, mostly because Helen had been wearing this thigh-high scarlet dress with a slit up the side, peep-toe heels, a little bit of eye shadow—she had done herself up like a verifiable goddess, which left Lucius very little choice but to lavish her with compliments. Admittedly, in the back of his mind, he _had_ found her elaborate choice of attire a little over the top considering it was just a friendly dinner, but when Helen herself was more of a meal than what was served, who was he to complain?

And now to find out that she had _purposefully_ spilled her glass of wine that night….It made Lucius wonder: just how much of it had been an act? Had she really been tipsy back then? Was the whole wobbling bit just as act? And then when she got up to go to the restroom only to drop her glass on Lucius' side of the table… when she had said, "Oops, clumsy me—no, no, Lucius sit down, let me just go get some napkins" with that cute little inebriated slur… when she had come back and bent over next to him while using the table as a brace… It had all been planned, the slow, almost methodical way she went down, the way she arched her back just right to elevate that mouthwateringly plump rump while her dressed hugged every curve into greater detail—

"Yeah, that was on purpose," said Bob, but he sounded miles away to Lucius who was still lost in the memory. "She even asked if I wanted her to flash her underwear while she did it."

"Then clearly we don't hold each other to the same level of beneficial friendship like I previously thought we did if you didn't let her," was all Lucius could find time to say before he had to grunt at the sudden twinge between his legs.

Now Bob laughed. "I told her I didn't mind but afterwards she told me there was no way she could have done it naturally without you noticing, and the whole point is to be inconspicuous."

"Probably for the best," Lucius said with a sigh riddled with regret and he reached for his thermos, spinning the lid off. "I'm but a man and your wife has an ass that'd I'd happily demean myself for, no questions asked—and that's how I know it's dangerous territory."

The two of them sipped in silence after that, letting the coffee work its magic and warm up their insides. Nursing boners did well for keeping the cold away from their thighs but for that all around warmth, coffee was needed. Lucius was beside himself with so many mixed emotions that even as he stared out the window, all he could see was the image of Helen bending over in that dress, over and over again like a glitched out recording. And to know it had been on purpose, that she did those things around him a lot, according to Bob at least. And Bob, who had known what was happening all along and secretly got off to the salacious way his wife was acting….

It was all so much to take in, remembering all the ways Helen had pressed herself into him for a hug, squishing her bosom against his chest, the way she sometimes hugged just his arm, making sure to squeeze it between her cleavage, and just how many times had she 'accidentally' bumped into him with those childrearing hips and giggled out an apology? She was always so soft, so fragrant….

"Hey, uh… you think our wives would be okay with the idea of swapping husbands for a day or two?"

Bob's sudden question caused Lucius to spit coffee all over the dashboard, which led to a few chaotic minutes as both men scrambled to clean up the mess.

"Damn it, Bob," Lucius snapped, wiping off the steering wheel and shooting his smirking friend an annoyed glare. "No warning, huh? Just all out there with your wildin' ass, geez. And how in the frozen hell am I supposed to know if they would?"

"You could start by asking Honey if she'd be alright with it," Bob offered casually, shrugging. "I mean, I'm offering those elasticheeks in exchange…."

And Lucius would be a damned liar if he said he wasn't interested. Getting Helen to himself for even one night would be everything he didn't even know he wanted, to run his hands over those hips, to sink his fingers into that plush ass, to fill those lips against his own, to suck on that sardonic pink tongue of hers….

"I dunno, Bob, like… even if the girls _were_ fine with it, we'd run a very fine line of addiction, y'know? Who's to say Helen wouldn't start pining for my dick afterwards? What if you couldn't get Honey off your mind when it's over?" Lucius pulled a brown paper bag from under his seat and tossed the used napkins inside, then flung it in the back seat. "It's risky… stuff like that always is."

When Bob's expression didn't so much as shift a blink, it was clear he had already considered that option and then some. "I love Helen," he said firmly, "and I know you love Honey."

"Love her like shark's love blood."

"Exactly. So the way I see it, this is just some adult fun, something new to experience, trading partners…."

"You ever done it before?"

"Never really had anyone I trusted enough to even entertain the idea, honestly."

"But you trust me?"

"I trust you like you trust me, Lu'."

And Lucius trusted Bob with his life. Protecting the world from the forces of evil did tend to breed unbreakable bonds of friendship and Lucius considered the bond he shared with Bob to be one of the strongest out there.

He sighed.

"Alright. Alright, damn. I don't even know if there's a sensible way to broach this conversation with Honey that doesn't end with me getting gut-checked, but… guess we can see where it goes."

The flicker of excitement that glistened in Bob's eye was shared with Lucius and they clapped hands.

"My brother, and I'll ask Helen!"

When something rapped against the window from Lucius' side, both Supers nearly jumped out of their skin. Struggling to get his sporadically beating heart under control, it took Lucius a few moments to realize that it was no longer night, that he and Bob had gabbed their way into the early morning, which meant their car, previously hidden by the night, was all on display for whoever walked by.

Like Helen, who was still dressed in her silk nightie and pulling his door open. She tilted her hips and rested a hand on the curve, an action that Lucius already knew was calculated and found an even sweeter sense of pleasure in because of it.

"Looks like you boys had a great night out, hm? Even got a rental car and all, nice—but just how long are you two gonna spend in it?" she asked with that trademark haughty grin, her eyes flitting from Bob to Lucius and back again. "Or are you moving in with Lucius and forgot to tell me, Bob?"

"So long as you keep making your legendary macaroni and cheese, you don't ever have to worry about me leaving, babe," Bob joked, flashing a handsome smile.

To this, Helen chuckled under her breath, said, "Excuse me, Lucius" and ducked into the car, crawling unceremoniously over Lucius' lap to kiss Bob over the cheek. "You shameless flatterer… but I like it."

Lucius was suddenly aware of several wonderful things, like how one of the hands that Helen was using to balance herself just so happened to fall right over his ever-throbbing member with crushing first; like how her jiggling ass was almost at eye level, the silken fabric of her gown caressing underneath his chin like a finger beckoning him to dive face first into her expansive crack; like how those creamy thick thighs were all on display and just begging to be caressed.

A groan slipped past Lucius' tightly pursed lips. The grip Helen had over his groin increased when she leaned even further into the kiss she was giving Bob, which only served to hike her ass up further into Lucius' vision, eclipsing all else.

Everything was growing oddly brighter as the sun climbed higher, chasing away the biting cold and bathing them in its warmth. Not that they needed it, it was beginning to get mighty humid in that cramped box of a car, mostly on the end with Bob, who had taken Helen by the face with a single massive hand and was outright kissing her now, wrestling for dominance over her tongue like she might suddenly vanish if he stopped. Again, like so many times before, Lucius was staring, mentally capturing everything, not even remotely sure when this chain of events had kicked off—but then Helen's rump gave a surprise bounce and thudded him under the chin.

The surprise was short-lived when she glanced back over her shoulder with a lust-fueled, half-lidded stare, fighting off Bob's ardent advances long enough to utter throatily, " _Kiss it._ "

And when she arched her back even further, freely offering up the morsel that was her ass, Lucius didn't need a second telling as he let his fingers tip-tap up her thighs, dragging her gown up inch by tantalizing inch, revealing more of Helen's thighs to the world. He didn't need a second thought as her panties came into view; they were a glossy pink pair doing a damn fine job at containing all that ass, stretched to the point where his roaming eyes could easily make out that delicious divide between her sun-kissed cheeks….

"Pause. I just want to give a quick thanks for this glorious meal I'm about to receive," Lucius said graciously, with entirely too much conviction, and he winced when Helen's grip purposefully tightened over his member. She broke her heated kiss with Bob for a second time, a flash of agitation blazing in her eyes.

"Thank me later— _I said kiss it_ ," she half-ordered, half-growled, and she gave her rear another beckoning bounce.

"Yes, ma'am."


End file.
